from those overheard conversations. And
he could have known about the spy woman from overhead conversations though my
mind might be running away with me. Maybe Cody knew about her, although I
hesitated to ask. He might not be in the right mood.
Cody sipped his coffee and looked back and
forth between us, making me nervous. I had another Danish .
Sugar always calmed my nerves.
Finally he said, “Tell you what, if you help
me, I’ll see you go free when this is over.”
Jake said, “When what is over?”
“When the last of the goods
are delivered. I could use your help. You help me, I let you go.”
I heard jail sentence at the end of that
statement.
I said, “I need some questions answered. Aren’t
you afraid some of the other relatives are going to walk in and see you with
that gun? Does everyone know about what’s in the basement?”
“They never get up before ten. Gives me plenty of time to work.”
I glanced at the clock. Seven.
“Who killed Albert?” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe some folks who didn’t like
us meddling in what they considered their arms business. I can’t be sure.
That’s the least of my worries.”
“This is a dangerous business, Cody. I thought
you were a rancher?”
“I am, most of the year. We do this trade once
a year. It’s very lucrative.”
“Did Albert suck you into this?”
“No. I asked if he needed help.”
“How did you find out?”
“I spent a lot of time with Uncle Al. I was the
closest he had to a son.”
“So,” I said, “ you must know about his affair with the woman he worked with.” I thought I’d throw
it in, see what happened.
“Who?” he said.
“The woman Opal says creatively murdered him.”
“Wow, she said that?” Cody looked sincerely
interested now. “Unbelievable.”
“Is she a real person?”
Cody’s eyes went flat when he realized I was
fishing, that I didn’t know. He shrugged. “Real as anything can be with Opal
right now.”
How was I to find this woman? I don’t think I
could just phone up spy central and ask for her. Opal wasn’t even sure about
her name.
Jake said, “I guess you wouldn’t consider
letting us go on our word. I’m not interested in this line of work. I don’t
think Fiona is either, are you?”
I shook my head and helped myself to a third
Danish. They were small. “No,” I said, “I’m best at interior design.”
Cody said, “You sure are asking a lot of
questions for not being interested.”
Jake tried to rise.
Cody motioned him down with the gun.
“Mind if I refill the coffee?” Jake said.
Cody relented. “Bring the pot over. I want a
refill.”
“Me, too,” I said.
This was all so civil.
Jake left his cup on the table and fetched the
coffee pot. He poured Cody’s first. Then, as he finished, with a deft flick of
his wrist he threw the remaining pot into Cody’s face. Cody’s arms flew up to
protect his face, and Jake smashed the coffee pot against the wrist that held
the gun. It skittered across the table.
Cody kept screaming son-of-a-bitch while trying
to clear his eyes. Jake delivered an impressive chop to Cody’s neck, and the
poor cowboy slumped over onto the table.
“Nice work, Jake,” I said.
He yanked me out of the chair. I was still
clutching the Danish.
“Which way to the car?” he said.
“Back entrance.”
We high tailed it from the kitchen, leaving
another mess for Hudson to clean up.
* * * * *
“Jake, we have to go to the police.”
We were speeding along in a line of lively commuter
traffic, going I wasn’t sure where, Jake at the wheel. He glanced in my
direction.
“Fiona, this kind of stuff is FBI and ATF
people, not a group I want to get involved with. We could get framed by Cody
and those goons he’s dealing with. I’m not willing to take that chance. I want
out.”
I was
perplexed. “In my world when there is wrong doing, one reports the information
to the proper authorities.”
“Not in my world. You settle things
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham